


Enough Longing

by OrangeBlossoms



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11212569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeBlossoms/pseuds/OrangeBlossoms
Summary: Maribelle delays. Olivia hopes to not make the same mistake.





	Enough Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: contains unrequited Lissabelle from the first section onward. This was a prompt from someone. A painful prompt. At least MaribelleXOlivia has a lot of cuteness potential. Lissabelle is my fave though. ;____; I’m like five years late to this ship… but I love them. Thank you to all you beautiful people who still create content for them in 2017. 
> 
> Title is a reference to the song Chega de Saudade (listen to the version sung by Rosa Passos with Yo-Yo Ma on cello).

She is in the cafe connected to the city library looking at her tea with a concerned expression. Maribelle is late. She is never late. If anything, Maribelle is always at least ten minutes early and would have already picked up her drink, plugged in her phone and opened her books in order to maximize efficient use of her time. She waffles between sending a text or calling. If something has come up last minute, she doesn’t want to further inconvenience her friend, but Maribelle would have let her know if she was going to be late. She is sure of it. 

She takes off the top of her paper cup and blows on the tea, careful not to create ripples that would cause the drink to spill over the side. She is so absorbed in her task and her worries that she never sees Maribelle approach.

“So sorry!” her friend says as she sits, causing Olivia to knock her cup, splashing hot tea on her hands and all over the table.

“Ah!” 

“Goodness, Olivia!” Maribelle exclaims, snapping up some napkins from a dispenser and handing her several before she begins wiping tea from the table.

“M-Maribelle! You _scared_ me!” she looks up at her friend only to see that her face is pale and her expression tired. Somehow she still appears more put together than Olivia ever felt. She’s wearing a ruffled white blouse, sleek grey slacks, and around her neck is a floral print scarf which somehow perfectly matches the color of the purse she chose to carry today. In contrast, Olivia is wearing yoga pants and a loose fitting grey sweater over a fitted sports shirt for practice later. There really is no comparison.

“Are you ok?” she asks, still wiping her hands. 

“Ah, nothing a bit of tea won’t fix. I’ll be right as rain in a moment,” she says, forcing a smile, “I must apologize for my tardiness.”

Olivia nods mutely, her eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Let me order a cup of something warm and we can catch up,” Maribelle promises, putting her bag on the chair opposite of hers and fishing out her wallet. 

She returns shortly with two cups, one a replacement for her own. 

“Peppermint?” she asks.

“Oh, thank you. You shouldn’t have,” she says, but still takes the new drink in her hands as there is something fragile in Maribelle’s movement and tone of voice that suggests she would not want that small kindness rejected. Of course Maribelle knows exactly what she had ordered before, but maybe it was because of the scent of mint that still lingers from when she made a mess. She also seems to know how she takes her tea (with nothing added, which is a contrast to what smells like black tea with lots of honey and lemon).

Olivia knows better than to try pressing again. If Maribelle wants to share, she will. She is a talented enough conversationalist to detour around any topics she doesn’t wish to discuss. 

“Nonsense. It was my fault in the first place your first cup was wasted, though heaven knows what has you so agitated.”

She wants to say she was worried about her, but settles for shaking her head, hands curling around the warmth of the disposable cup. Maribelle is smiling now in a way that is less strained. 

“Now, tell me, how have your rehearsals been going? Has the new artistic director hit his stride or is he still battling it out with Tethys?”

Olivia is in her first year working at a dance and choreography center in the city as part of the community outreach program. She avoids as much of the work politics as possible, but will indulge her friend if that is what she wishes to discuss.

“His resume is impressive, but I think people are having a hard time with how young he seems and Tethys was never the kind of person to take kindly to authority without earning her respect first. If Nils would do a better job trying to meet her partway, I think it would go more smoothly, but I guess his inexperience is showing.”

Maribelle is quick to give her own assessment of the situation, which Olivia listens to with patience, noticing her friend restore the verve she was used to seeing as she talks.

“I suppose as one of the newest hires you need to lay low until this all blows over... but you still love the work?” Maribelle asks, her tone hopeful.

Olivia’s expression turns dreamy, “When I can focus on the dancing, I love it. I enjoy working with the children in outreach more than I thought I would, too, and we still get to do our own choreography for the showcase in two months.”

“I’m truly happy for you,” Maribelle says before her face once again grows somber.

They sit in silence a few moments, Maribelle looking out the window, gaze unfocused.

“I made something of a fool of myself today,” she admits, trailing off.

Olivia waits for her to continue and Maribelle knows better than to take offense at her silence.

“I do not regret not saying anything during my last visit to Ylisstol. It's not what she needed at the time with her sister being in that awful accident. It was always the thing I wanted to do in person, you see. Over the phone felt disrespectful of the _importance_ of what I wanted to say, but I over complicated it and it's too late.”

Olivia doesn’t blink an eye at the reveal, roundabout as it is. She is well aware of Maribelle’s infatuation with her best friend. There is a level of dedication that always made Olivia feel as though she could never compete. She doesn't shine like Lissa. She has met her twice now and Maribelle's descriptions aren't completely off the mark even with the obvious bias. She brings smiles to the faces of friends and strangers alike. When she walks into a room it is as if everything brightens with her presence. Maribelle isn’t exaggerating when she uses the word radiant to describe Lissa. A shrinking violet is nothing compared to the sun itself.

“Maybe if I had turned down that practicum and gone to visit over the break, but it's over now. She's engaged. A whirlwind affair, but I shall not cast judgment. I must support her. I _must_ ,” she says with fervor as if she is making a sacred oath.

Olivia lets her speak, swallowing her own nerves in order to place her hands over the curled fists of her friend. Maribelle still has her jacket and driving gloves on, but she is prone to chills. The corners of Maribelle’s mouth quirk upward weakly at the touch, but her eyes well with tears. 

“Oh, Olivia, and to make matters worse I _confessed_ to her. If something like this happened, I was certain I’d take this secret with me to the grave,” she said, bowing her head, “I feel ill even remembering it.”

She thinks it isn’t much of a secret if even someone like Olivia could figure it out. Everyone seemed to know except Lissa herself. 

“Of all the awful things I could do… Lissa comes to me with happy news and I turn around and make it about myself,” she says, deflating further, “I apologized, of course, but there is no taking back that moment.” 

Maribelle turns their hands over so she can hold Olivia’s.

“‘In another life or at a different time’ she told me. Perhaps if I had stayed in Ylisstol instead of submitting to my parents’ wishes to attend university in Themis,” she comments before deftly brushing the corner of an eye and rallying, “Ah, but there is no use in thinking that way. Maybe I wouldn’t have found my passion for law. Did I ever tell you I had intended on pursuing a medical degree?” 

Olivia shakes her head. 

“Also, I would have never met you or, at the very least, we wouldn’t be such good friends,” Maribelle says, grasping for any comforting prospect in the situation, “Thank you for listening. Truly. I feel much lighter now. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Olivia’s heart flutters and she’s positive she couldn’t be more sympathetic to Maribelle’s struggle with inappropriate timing. 

\--

They met during their final year of undergrad. They were the only two seniors in a general education course. Maribelle had thrown herself into her major track early and Olivia had some difficulty transferring all of her credits when she transferred schools. 

Maribelle had approached her in what was the first of many one-sided conversations. She first assumed that it was because she was another senior, but it became clear it was due to her shyness. She never liked talking during class. Sensing everyone’s eyes watching made it feel like the room was closing in on her. She would mentally rehearse what she planned to say, but by the time she was ready to raise her hand, the instructor would have long moved on to a different focus. The few times she did get called on in class, she faltered in her responses. It was a dilemma as participation was a large part of their grade. With no prompting from Olivia, Maribelle had taken it upon herself to assist with her predicament.

 _“It pains me to see you struggle so,”_ she had said after class that time and Olivia had wondered if she was making fun of her. 

She had been polite enough to wait for everyone to leave, at least. Olivia had seen her classmates poke fun at the prim student. No one paid attention when Olivia was in the room, so she would often hear them gossip. They referred to her as the teacher’s assistant as she would often be first to jump in on discussion points, having little patience for everyone else’s reluctance to break the silence. 

After that first encounter, they would meet in the dining hall or a library study room. She expected to be intimidated by Maribelle, and she was at first, but her new friend was adept at reading the mood and knew when to pull back and when to nudge her. They would go over the assignments and Maribelle would have her practice conversing with her. To her shock, the routine worked. It didn’t prevent her from stammering at times, but she was able to contribute enough where the instructor made positive mention of the change.

In thanks, she acquired a pair of tickets to their end of the semester performance taking a full week to build up the courage to gift them to her unofficial tutor. 

_“I-if you can’t make it, don’t worry! P-please, don’t feel obligated!”_

She didn’t expect it, but Maribelle was there to congratulate her after the show with Lissa in tow. Introductions were quick and enthusiastic from Lissa, who had assured her that she had heard nothing but good things about her. That Maribelle had mentioned her at all was something of a surprise.

 _“You were simply amazing, darling! It’s not much, but I believe it’s tradition to give the performer a bouquet,”_ Maribelle had said as she embraced her.

She was flustered to receive an arrangement of jewel-toned orchids, Lissa giggling to the side. 

_“Maribelle can be a bit much, but she means well!”_

_“I’m certain this is the_ proper _thing to do,” _Maribelle had objected, arms crossed and face flushed as Lissa hugged her, still laughing into her hand.__

____

____

As she admired the flowers in her room later that night, she began to realize she might enjoy Maribelle’s company and attention more than was normal for a friend. That same weekend was also when she realized she didn’t have a chance. If Maribelle was a friend to her, it was clear her devotion to Lissa was on a different level. The two had invited her to spend the day shopping with them. Maribelle had been happier than she had ever seen her, the strict façade shed in favor of contagious joy. 

\--

Maribelle is melancholy after two glasses of wine. She has cut herself off with an irritable huff, stating she’s “too uptight to ever get well and truly sloshed”. The bitter self-awareness is unsettling. They are at Olivia’s place for one of their dinner get togethers. As she lives in a studio apartment, everything is visible from where she stands in the tight corner that makes up her kitchen, including her friend’s dour expression. 

Both of them had the uncomfortable realization early in their friendship that Maribelle had access to resources beyond what Olivia could even conceive. During a lull in a study session Maribelle had asked why Olivia didn’t travel home to Ferox over breaks, to which Olivia had said it was too expensive. It would require a family emergency or a significant amount of planning and saving for her to make the trip. Maribelle, in contrast, could travel wherever and whenever she wanted. If it weren’t for her complete dedication to her professional aspirations, she could take a weekend trip to Valm with little thought to the expense. 

In lieu of gifts or expensive restaurant visits, they cooked for each other. The first attempt had mixed results as Olivia had never explicitly told Maribelle she was vegetarian. The panic on her face when she saw what had been prepared had been enough for Maribelle to press her for the reason.

_“You said you were ‘fine with anything’!”_

_“Anything… vegetarian? I-I just thought you knew!”_

_“I simply assumed you were overly fond of salads!”_ Maribelle had said, floundering as she wrapped up the individual beef wellingtons that Olivia imagined she had spent significant effort preparing and placed an order for delivery. 

_“Th-that’s just because the cafeteria options were all _terrible _!”_ Olivia had explained, embarrassed she had never mentioned it outright.__

____

____

Every time after that had gone smoothly in comparison and Olivia had attempted to be better at communicating. 

Olivia is busy finishing preparations while Maribelle talks. When it isn’t her turn to cook, Maribelle tends to brings wine. It’s a light red that Olivia doesn’t recognize though she’s always happy to learn. She is still nursing her first glass, Maribelle having moved on to water when she explains that Lissa had asked her to be the maid of honor. Maribelle had accepted, having an idea of what she was getting herself into, but feeling obligated nonetheless. She assures Olivia that Lissa gave her several chances to turn her down. Even on the rare occasion the scrupulous Maribelle is critical of Lissa, who seems to have a much more impish nature, she always does so with fondness. 

“Emmeryn and her wife are still recovering from the car accident and I don’t think Lissa wants to put the added pressure on them. All her other close friends are men!” Maribelle states as if it should be obvious why that could be a problem. 

“Couldn’t one of her other friends do it then? I don’t see why it has to be traditional,” Olivia offers, knowing that Maribelle tends to lean towards established rules of conduct.

“I suppose. It’s just that I value her friendship too much to let my sensitivity get in the way of me being able to support her and quite frankly, some of them are idiots. Well-intentioned idiots, but idiots nonetheless. I’d sooner hire a well-mannered labrador to organize an event than I would Vaike. Her parents passed away long ago, so she would be bearing too much of that burden on her own,” she says, taking a sip of her water,”Her brother is also quite useless when it comes to these kinds of things. I think he wants the ‘women folk’ handle it and he’ll just show up when he needs to be there as if it all lines up magically. That isn’t to say he’s incompetent, mind you. I just think when it comes to more emotionally charged tasks, he would rather be able to fight them head on than to worry about anyone’s feelings in the matter.” 

She releases a forlorn sigh and the brave face she was able to put on the other week seems to have all but disappeared. Olivia rinses her hands in her small sink and towels them dry. Food is now baking and she has a chance to sit. Pulling a chair over to her friend she wordlessly embraces her. Maribelle stiffens at the move, but relaxes and returns the gesture. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, head perched on Olivia's shoulder, ”Once again, I’m making it about myself.”

Olivia shushes her, her desire to help overriding any potential nerves. 

“As _your_ friend I would like to support you. You looked like you could use a hug,” she says, pulling back and smiling in a way she hopes is comforting. 

Maribelle throws herself back into the hug, murmuring her gratitude and sniffling. As she runs her fingers through Maribelle’s blonde locks, Olivia realizes she doesn't have to shine as brightly as the sun. She can be the moon and keep vigil by her side in the dark.

\--

There is music filtering down onto the street from a cracked window in Maribelle's apartment. It's something she recognizes from when she went through a classical music phase during her ballet years. It should be accompanied by full orchestra yet it's a lone violin singing with an earnest timbre. Maribelle had participated in the university orchestra through her junior year, but decided to focus on her studies and bowed out despite being second chair. Olivia has never heard her play before. She has never had the courage to ask though she had seen the music stand in a corner of her living room, scores peaking out from a basket next to an upholstered chair.

She is an hour late due to signal problems on the subway, which caused a domino effect of delays. At this rate she will only be able to stay for a cup of tea before making the same trek back. She had wanted to check in on her friend after she had been away in Ylisstol for an extended weekend. Maribelle had not brought up the topic beyond mentioning she would be out of town. There is a pause in the music where the soloist would have a period of rest followed by a sharp noise of a window screen sliding up. Without prompting she's there looking down on her.

“What are you doing?” she calls from her second story window.

Olivia shields her eyes as she looks up to protect them from the glare of the declining sun as it sets the world ablaze.

“I didn't want to interrupt. It was so pretty!” she says, knowing the words fall short. Maribelle would have said exquisite or virtuosic or something else more aligned with the experience. She thinks of the word “masterful” as Maribelle buzzes her into the building and wonders if she will have the chance to use it before deciding she would be much too embarrassed.

The door is cracked to allow her entry and she sees Maribelle loosening the bow hairs, the violin already tucked into its case.

“Oh, you don't have to stop,” she exclaims,”I’m sorry it took so long. I’m glad you got my messages.”

“I’m glad you finally arrived. I was growing concerned over the delay. As for the music… I only like to take it out now and again for tuning and to make sure it is not damaged by changes in the weather. I don’t often have time to play, but as I had already set aside the evening and with the transportation issues…” she explains, gesturing vaguely with a hand.

“Don’t stop on my account then! Really!” 

“I suppose I could play one short piece, but then we will have our tea,” she concedes.

She tightens the bow and rubs a cake of rosin over the hairs before picking up the violin from its case and quickly testing the strings. With a satisfied nod she places it under her chin and begins to play a melody Olivia doesn’t recognize. 

It is sentimental in tone. It's clear she knows where to emphasize and how to embellish for greater effect with slight pauses before falling into a new section of the piece and movements in her fingers that cause the strings to quiver. 

Olivia stands and claps at the end, Maribelle chuckling before displaying a dramatic bow.

“What was it? I’ve never heard that one,” she asks.

“Its title means ‘little star’,” Maribelle replies, cheeks coloring,”It’s cloying, but I thought it would be appropriate as it is short.” 

“I’m sorry I don’t have any flowers!” Olivia beams, “Really! That was lovely!”

“Ah, it’s nothing professional like your dancing, but I’m pleased you enjoyed it. Now then, let me get you some tea and I want to hear all about what is going on with you! We have spent far too much time lately on the minutia of _my_ lamentable experiences and I am quite tired of even thinking about them.”

Somehow Maribelle stays true to her word and cajoles Olivia into talking about her life at the exclusion of any mention of Maribelle’s own. It’s not until she is on her way home that she wonders if she should be worried. 

\--

As the showcase approaches and other work responsibilities ramp up, she doesn’t see Maribelle for nearly a month. She does make sure to send her a ticket, as always stating she doesn’t need to feel pressured to attend, creating a buffer against any potential disappointment.

Like she had over a year ago, Maribelle is waiting for her after her performance, flowers in hand. This time she is alone and Olivia blushes as she gives her a chaste kiss on her cheek in greeting and compliments her lavishly in a language uniquely Maribelle’s. She knows it’s not something to read into, but her heart still swells with hope in response. Tethys teases her about it the next day they see each other at work. Olivia isn’t quick enough with her response to deny any of her colleague’s innuendo. 

“I-I… she’s… o-oh dear,” she fumbles, wrapping her arms around herself. 

Tethys laughs in a loud, hearty way that doesn't quite match her feminine features. 

“She’s cute. You should go for it,” the other dancer says, winking and tousling her hair before she strolls to her next lesson.

As she fixes her headband in the bathroom mirror, Olivia once again considers the possibility. 

\--

Maribelle surprises her when she asks her to show her how to dance. She even offers to pay her regular rate for a private lesson. Olivia asks for dinner instead, but appreciates the respect it shows for her profession. She’s perplexed by the request as Maribelle knows very well how to dance. She knows how to waltz and foxtrot and even paso doble. Both her and Lissa attended what sounded like a prestigious prep school that neither of the two cared for, their friendship beginning via bonding over shared misery. Maribelle had at least gained a variety of skills from the imposed schooling, formal dancing included. When it comes to more informal dancing, however, Olivia quickly finds Maribelle is much more rigid as she doesn't have strict timings and set rules to follow. 

They have set up shop in the middle of Maribelle’s living room, furniture moved to the side to create a modest dance floor. Maribelle has delivered on her end of the bargain, a timer for a baked dish serving as their lesson cut off. Against her own better judgment, Olivia had offered one of the work practice rooms during a time she knew it would be free. Tethys had informed her coworkers of her crush as everyone waited for stragglers in order to begin a staff meeting, so it would be just her luck to have potential curious onlookers. Thankfully, Maribelle had turned down the suggestion. Before they start, Maribelle admits to not wanting to look foolish at the reception citing the unlikelihood of anyone partaking in ballroom dances.

Olivia wields her expertise as a shield, attempting to focus on the advice she can give and not the other woman’s proximity. Slowly she’s able to coax Maribelle into relaxing and then enjoying herself. It’s then that she makes the mistake of lowering her own defenses, laughing helplessly at a plucky comment from her friend as Maribelle’s customary confidence resurfaces. When she reopens her eyes, she’s suddenly aware of how close their faces are. Any flow they’ve created is abandoned, Maribelle’s self-assured grin dropping in confusion. 

“Sh-should you check the food?” she says, pulling back too quickly for it to feel like a natural transition. 

As if divine providence has stepped in and decided to spare her from another ill-prepared excuse, the oven timer beeps shrilly in the kitchen.

For some reason it's Tethys’ voice she imagines mocking her over her cowardice.

 _That would have been a_ great _opportunity._

As they sit down to chat over dinner, Olivia once again realizes the moment is gone.

\--

“I’m told I am to bring a plus one. I have no such person in my life at the moment, but I would be the only one in the wedding party to not have one besides Chrom,” she says with a frown that looks more like a pout, “And I’ve heard they are going to try to set me up with Lissa’s brother as some sort of consolation prize. I would rather not. We dated in high school briefly. I can’t imagine our chemistry will have improved.” 

In a flash of audacity she didn’t know she had, Olivia offers her own suggestion in a way that she hopes doesn’t read as overeager. 

“I-I could go… as a friend. You wouldn’t have to dance with anyone you didn’t want to,” she says, realizing how transparent her proposition is. She still hopes Maribelle interprets the color blooming in her cheeks as her usual level of shyness. She uses what willpower she has to prevent herself from burying her face in her hands. How could she just invite herself like that? 

“Oh, I couldn’t inconvenience you that way,” Maribelle says, though there is something in her eyes that looks almost hopeful.

Desperation wins out over self-contempt as she jumps to respond.

“It wouldn’t be an inconvenience,” she asserts, leaning forward in a way that she just knows is too earnest. 

“To be perfectly honest,” Maribelle says, studying her cup of tea,”your presence would be a great comfort to me. I’ve come to terms with everything that has happened, but that doesn't mean I wouldn’t appreciate the moral support.”

She pulls a lock of her hair back behind her ear, still looking into the chamomile depths. Olivia is all too aware of how closely she's watching and how it's suddenly difficult to breathe. She thinks that maybe she's more proficient at dancing _around_ things than she is at her job. 

She hadn't planned on saying anything today despite her growing captivation. A vague “after the wedding” seemed like a good, safe timeline. Maribelle would only have her studies to focus on alongside some career relevant work she had started. 

Sometimes she hopes Maribelle would be the one to broach the topic. There have been signs of awareness from her and none of them have hinted at rejection. She has already realized she might have to put herself out there at some point. She should know better by now that she doesn’t want to have the same regrets Maribelle does. Still, she would rather go in with a plan. The hesitation is enough for her to bookend the discussion with something more neutral.

“Just let me know how I can help,” she says. 

\--

She assists Maribelle with carrying assorted belongings back to their hotel room, her heart thrumming in her chest as she promises herself she won't waste this moment. The wedding and reception were both lively affairs and more informal than she would have anticipated. Despite only knowing two people, she had enjoyed herself. She had spent some time observing from one side of the ballroom as Maribelle ran around fixing some last minute unforeseen issues ranging from two of the groomsmen leaving their boutonnières at the ceremony venue despite being instructed to keep them on for photographs and the guest book mysteriously vanishing. Lissa’s soft-spoken sister and her serious wife who was seated by her side like a sentinel kept her company as Maribelle and herself had somehow ended up at one of the tables for relatives. When she stepped on the dance floor Maribelle was always near. She was quick to signal for a couple of sloppy drunk individuals giving her unwanted attention to back off with an imperious glare. It made her want to embrace her and laugh. Thinking back on it she realizes that even her huffy tendencies are charming to her at this point.

They had been invited to an after party with the promise of pizza to soak up the alcohol people had consumed from the open bar. Maribelle had politely declined after asking her preference, knowing Olivia wouldn’t have felt comfortable going anywhere alone.

“Now that it’s all done, I hope you don’t mind if I impose on you once again,” Maribelle says as she holds her hands in a loose grip, bags hanging from both of their arms.

Olivia realizes from her tone that she could remain completely passive and still reach her general goal, but decides it's not what she wants.

“Wait, Maribelle!” she says, too sharply as her friend appears taken aback. As she reflexively attempts to retract her hands, Olivia holds tight.

Olivia struggles to gather the words she rehearsed only to be disappointed as her mind has become a sieve. Feeling the seconds tick by and the pressure to say something, anything, the core of her prepared statement is all that makes it past her lips.

“I lo-like you s-so much! I have for o-over a _year_ , but never knew when or how to say it,” she blurts before her hands snap up to cover her mouth. That wasn't exactly how she planned it with her voice trembling just as much as it had when they first met along with the admittance of just how long she’s let this go on.

Maribelle blinks, her hands going to her lips in a move that mirrors her own. 

Once the surprise settles, Maribelle clears her throat before speaking, “I was hoping to ask you if you would like to go out on a date. I’m very fond of you as well,” she shakes her head,”That's not quite it. More than fondness. I care for you greatly and have for some time.”

There is a tense silence and Maribelle leans in to break it.

“May I?” Maribelle asks bringing a hand up to her cheek and dropping the things she had been carrying.

Not trusting her voice, she nods, melting into Maribelle’s touch as her free hand rests at Olivia’s waist and pulls her close.

Their first kiss is soft, her eyes fluttering shut. She puts her own hands on Maribelle’s waist and has a dizzying worry that her knees might give out. In their dress shoes they are nearly the same height and Olivia suddenly wishes to be rid of them. Maribelle is first to pull away as the hand that had caressed her cheek seeks to intertwine their fingers. Before either of them can speak, a burst of drunken laughter is heard from a nearby stairwell.

“Should we get out of the hallway?” she asks and in lieu of a verbal reply, Maribelle tugs her along, snatching up the bags from the floor. 

As Maribelle opens the door, Olivia has the impulse to lean in to kiss her on the cheek, but fumbles in her giddiness and ends up brushing her lips against her temple. Maribelle squeezes her hand before pulling her into the room behind her. 

Maribelle places the extra bags on a chair and she follows suit only noticing with careful observation that there is a slight tremor to the other woman’s fingers. 

Shoes are finally removed, Maribelle blithely mentioning her satisfaction to have them off, voice too tight to sound natural. She can’t remember a time when she has felt such a rapid fire cycling of emotions from anxiety to determination to embarrassment to relief and now elation at how happy, and by extension beautiful, Maribelle looks. It's simultaneously exhausting and exhilarating. Thoughts cease as Maribelle pulls her down for a more forceful kiss than the one they shared in the hallway, the confused sound she elicits muffled by a smooth crush of lips.

Desire is something she recognizes in others, but rarely feels herself. Too often it is a sign to be cautious. The comfort of a mutual attraction, however, is enough to quell any persistent worries as she lets her feelings exist in the moment, taking turns leading and being led. 

Maribelle’s hands never wander from her waist or her face, holding her delicately in a way that is borderline frustrating. When she pulls her closer, a hand in the nape of her neck clutching at thick, golden tresses, it's Maribelle’s turn to sound startled. She eases into the new position as her hand slides from a collarbone up Olivia’s neck to brush a thumb across her cheek. 

They eventually separate for air, shaky breaths audible in the space between them. 

“I don’t… I don’t suppose you would consider sharing a bed tonight?” Maribelle asks, sounding vulnerable in a way that gives her courage.

Olivia smiles into the next kiss thinking over the endearingly awkward turn of phrase before whispering an answer in the affirmative a hair’s breadth away from her ear. Maribelle shivers pleasantly in her arms and then recuperates her confident mien.

“I quite like Olivia the Bold. You should show me more of her,” she grins in a way that shows she understands full well what she’s implying.

Olivia giggles at the play on words, feeling as though she’s ruining the moment, but knowing they won’t have any problem picking up where things left off.

\--

She’s disoriented when she first wakes up. The thick hotel blinds block out the light and there’s a weight on her arm. As soon as she registers soft warmth, she nuzzles the back of her partner’s head and pulls her close. A bleary murmur greets her ears as Maribelle slowly turns over in the embrace. 

“Good morning or whatever time it is,” she states, punctuating her sentence with a yawn as she attempts covers her mouth despite being stuck in a tangle of limbs and sheets, “My apologies.” 

“Good morning, I think,” she responds as she tries to make out the red lights from the alarm clock with sleep-blurred vision, ”It’s not quite seven o’clock.” 

“I don't think I’ve slept that well in years,” Maribelle says, a thoughtful expression crossing her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep. 

Her long, blonde hair is disheveled and her movements slow and clumsy. It's a Maribelle she hasn't seen before and she's drawn in by the newness and the contrast to her normal practiced perfection.

She hugs her close again, receiving an incoherent happy murmur in response.

“Do we have to get up?” she asks though the question is more rhetorical than an actual query. 

“Hmm another half hour,” Maribelle says before turning over again and snuggling back into her.

She looks over her shoulder at the other bed in the room, pristinely made, and is grateful she had taken the risk and not spent the money on an additional room.

\--

There is a brunch at Emmeryn’s just for the wedding party, immediate family and their significant others. No one says anything, but there are plenty of knowing looks and smiles directed at their linked hands.

The newlyweds arrive and she sees Lissa’s brother lean in and say something to her that causes her to make a beeline to where they are sitting. After giving Maribelle a tight hug and congratulating them as if she isn't the one who just got married, she links arms with Olivia and pulls her to the side. Emmeryn’s wife Phila has come to distract Maribelle in what looks like polite conversation, so she has no one to aid her as Lissa begins whispering.

“Did you know that Maribelle’s feet are _super_ ticklish? Like really ticklish.”

She continues to share similar details before solemnly telling her to “use this information wisely” and hugging her. If it were anyone else, it might have been uncomfortable, but Olivia quickly realizes it's Lissa's own way of showing her trust and approval. She can't help but feel touched.

“I saw that look in her eye,” Maribelle muses as she reappears at her side,”What could Lissa have been telling you, hmm?”

She leans against her shoulder, her hand once again seeking out Olivia's own.

She's not sure if she's still riding the emotional high, but her response is uncharacteristically cheeky as she grins and shrugs.

Maribelle’s laugh is genuine in response and it's a delightful, airy sound.

“You know, we never did establish if you would go on that date with me. There is a lovely bistro in downtown Ylisstol only a couple blocks from the art museum. If you are not busy, would you like to make an afternoon of it before we have to return to Themis in the morning?”

Still feeling playful, she brings a finger to her lips in consideration. Maribelle scoffs at the tease and bumps shoulders with her.

“Incorrigible!”

“I don't think I could ever say no to a request like that from you, O fairest Maribelle,” she says, bowing her head in mock obeisance.

“I never took you for a flatterer, but I can't say that I mind it, even if your delivery is highly suspect,” Maribelle responds looking distinctly pleased.

Olivia breaks character and leans her cheek against their clasped hands. How beautiful it is to have this chance.

**Author's Note:**

> In the violin section, I imagined her playing bits and pieces from Brahms’ Violinkonzert (Allegro non troppo more specifically). Probably an overly dramatic rendition, too, as she's feeling sorry for herself (and of course it would be Brahms…). The second piece she performs for Olivia is Estrellita by Manuel Ponce. The version with lyrics is over-the-top.
> 
> Tethys is the dancer from FE8. Nils is a bard from FE7 (it’s more complicated than that, but saying more would be spoilers… play FE7! And FE8!).
> 
> Um and I never made a decision on who Lissa marries. Maybe Donnel? I dunno. It wasn't really important to the story I wanted to tell (*cough* I don't really ship her with anyone except Maribelle).


End file.
